


Ghost Riders in the Sky

by wildcrisis



Series: McReyes Week [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Horses, M/M, Snarky Reaper, and longer, teaching time!, this ended up being cuter than i meant for it to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-03 01:06:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8690584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildcrisis/pseuds/wildcrisis
Summary: For the prompt "Domestic" of McReyes week. Teaching someone how to ride a horse is domestic around these parts.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up being way longer than I meant it to be, but I enjoyed it nonetheless. I hope you do too. This is the first installment of my McReyes week prompts.

“What are you doing?”

 

The harsh, haunted tone of Reaper’s voice came out even more sarcastic than he truly meant for it to. However, the sight before him called for some sort of reaction. 

 

Jesse McCree paused, his gloved hand currently pressed up against a horse’s face. His lips pulled down into a concentrated frown, as if attempting to figure out exactly why Reaper had called him out. 

 

They were currently traveling, unfortunately by foot, through the rural countryside of Montana in search of Reaper’s next target. With their ride having malfunctioned in the middle of nowhere, and having no tools to fix it, they’d had no choice but to continue forward on foot in hopes of finding another transport. Reaper was sure they would eventually run into some sort of human life that owned a goddamn car of any sort, but two days of wandering had only just now led to anything that could be of use. 

 

The pasture stretched on for miles, and while there was no house or barn in immediate sight, Reyes knew that someone had to be caring for the beasts. One swift death, and they could be back on the road again. 

 

And yet, here was McCree, stopping and petting the damnable horse, instead of making himself useful. 

 

“Stop petting the damn horse,” Reaper hissed through his mask, grabbing Jesse’s wrist and pulling it away from the likely flea-bitten animal, “It’s someone’s pet. We can take their transport, whatever it is. Help me locate it.” 

McCree raised an eyebrow, a gesture almost hidden by his obnoxious hat. A coyote grin srpead across his sun-tanned face, and the cowboy gave the horse another scratch behind it’s ear. 

“Don’t gotta bother stealin’ another car, boss. We got us some good transport right here.”

“You can’t be serious,” Reyes growled, his flickering glance between the horse and his frustrating companion hidden by his mask. The horse snorted, nudging Jesse’s hand for more pats. 

McCree complied, climbing over the fence and scratching the mare’s chin. If Reyes hadn’t already been over-analyzing Jesse’s every movement, he might have missed the look of child-like enjoyment in the man’s dark eyes. He elected to ignore it. 

“‘Course I am. They’d be lookin’ for a stolen car with a devil behind the wheel. We’re in cow country; ain’t no-one gonna give two cowboys moseyin’ down a pasture a second thought.” 

Reaper wanted nothing more than to wrap his clawed hands around McCree’s throat and strangle him for offering out an intelligent idea. Gabriel Reyes, what was left of him inside of that black cloak however, was impressed and proud enough of Jesse’s ingenuity to keep his hands still. 

“Right. It’s only fitting for you to be mowed down on top of a glorified cow, I suppose.” 

A short while later, and they had disabled the omnics in charge of operating the livestock operations. Of course, it was only Reaper’s luck that this particular swatch of land wasn’t being cared for directly. The rancher who owned it likely only stopped by on occasion to ensure everything was functioning properly. 

Jesse raided the small barn, procuring all the items they needed. Things Reyes didn’t recognize or care to know the names of. He could point out the saddle and the reigns; those were the important parts he knew of. 

The horses had wandered close to Jesse from all of the commotion. They seemed to enjoy human attention, likely starved of it since the rancher didn’t directly operate from this pasture. They snorted at the cowboy, stomped their hooves impatiently as he brushed them, fitted all the horseback riding materials to them. McCree cooed to them, scratched them, fed them from his hands. 

Reaper kept his distance from the ordeal, only watching impatiently. 

“Y’see? They ain’t bad at all. Hell, they seem loyal,” Jesse commented, leading the horses over to where Reyes kept watch. One of the mares, a brown and white paint, mouthed at Jesse’s hat as he spoke, “This’ll take longer, but at least they ain’t gonna break down or run outta gas.” 

Reyes uttered some noise of agreement, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. 

McCree mounted the other horse in seconds, as if he’d done it a hundred times before. He settled into the saddle, and patted the brown mare’s neck. 

“Alright, hop on yours and we’ll start headin’ over yonder.” 

Reaper stared at the horse that was now nudging his arm for attention. She was large, her dark tail swishing impatiently from the lack of nurture. She blinked an eye at him as he wrapped a taloned hand around one of the reigns. Reyes hunched his shoulders, silent, brooding. 

He refused to look at Jesse, eyeing the saddle with apprehension. Admitting what he needed to seemed so simple in his head, but it felt like pulling teeth. It frustrated him. Angered him. The horse snorted and stomped her hooves, impatient, eager to get away from him. 

“... Somethin’ a matter, Gabe?”

Reaper turned his head and glared at McCree so harshly he was surprised the cowboy didn’t spontaneously combust. He cautiously rose a hand and patted the mare’s nose, to keep her from getting any more frightened than she already was. 

“I don’t ride horses, cowboy.” 

McCree seemed to study him a moment, but Reaper didn’t bother trying to read whatever the man was thinking. He was too busy trying to figure out how to make this work. Surely, riding a stupid animal couldn’t be too difficult. Foot in the … foot-strap, tug on the reigns … that was about it, wasn’t it? 

Before he could act on any guesses, Jesse had already dismounted, and walked to the other side of the paint mare. His expression was soft, but not insulting. Still, it made Reaper want to tear his face off and continue this expedition on his own. Somehow, McCree continued to survive his murderous aura, and the cowboy got to work teaching. 

“Alright, put your hands here. Now, left foot in the stirrup, lift yourself up and over, get your right foot in the other stirrup.” 

Reyes begrudgingly followed the orders, and in moments, found himself seated on the back of a living, breathing beast. It felt strange. There was no back support, but the curve of the saddle seemed to offset that in a way. He grabbed the reigns with more force than intended, earning him a few angry stomps as the mare’s head was pulled back. 

“Ingrate,” Reaper couldn’t help but hiss at the horse as she stomped around. Jesse quickly mounted his ride once more with a deep laugh, nudging his mare closer to Reyes. 

“I’m bettin’ she’s a lot better behaved than my ass was,” Jesse grinned, earning him another frustrated sigh from his companion, “Now, she’ll prolly just follow along if I lead, but in case she don’t, here’s how to steer. Pull left to go left, pull right to go right. Pullin’ back will prolly make her stop. Nudge her sides with your heels to make her go faster. Oh, and don’t piss her off much more or she’ll buck your ass across state lines.” 

Reaper sneered at the crude explanation of how to make his live animal transport move along. However, before he had the chance to act on any of the instruction McCree had given him, the mare began moving. She walked forward, and in a matter of moments, the walk became a steady trot. It was much faster than he’d anticipated. Reyes bounced in the saddle, holding onto the reigns, his arms unsure, his brain racing to figure out how to get the heavy animal to stop moving. 

The horse’s trot became a gallop.   
Reyes opened his mouth without even thinking. 

“Jesse McCree stop this god forsaken animal before I shoot it.” 

Behind him, Reyes could hear another set of heavy hooves accompanied by hearty laughter. Jesse raced past him, his horse pulling in front of the painted mare and her unwilling, unhappy mount. McCree’s horse slowed, and so too did Reyes’. In moments, they were down to a simple walk once more, and Reaper ignored how his heart thumped painfully in his chest. This was a stupid idea. This was the most moronic, idiotic -- only the ingrate would make him do something so degrading, so --

“Least you didn’t fall off. I about got trampled the first time a horse took off with me.” 

Reyes snarled at McCree’s half-hearted attempt to assure him that this wasn’t the worst thing in the world. The paint mare, Ingrate, he’d decided he’d refer to her as, was just as much of an ass as Jesse. Jesse slowed his horse’s pace until he was next to Reyes once more, and reached out to tighten Reaper’s grip on the reigns. His gloved hand lingered on Reye’s cold claws. 

“You got plenty of time to figure it out. Just take charge. You’re good at that.”   
McCree mused for a second, tapping his chin, “Actually, s’bout all you’re good at.”

“Shove it, cowboy, or I’ll teach Ingrate to kick you off your horse.” 

Thankfully, it ended up not taking too terribly long for Reyes to gather some control over his horse. Jesse made helpful comments here or there to correct him, and the longer it lasted, the less Reaper became annoyed by it. There was a warmth in Jesse’s voice, a calm in his eyes. As Reaper watched him ride the brown mare ahead of him, he couldn’t help but feel it was an oddly picture perfect moment, somewhere in the sane, less tortured part of his soul. 

They dismounted as night fell, and McCree continued to ramble about horse care. He showed Gabriel how to remove the saddle, what went on first, talked about what horses should and shouldn’t eat. Reaper was content to listen for now, as they tied the horses to a tree so Jesse could grab a little bit of shut eye. 

Reyes found himself absent-mindledly patting Ingrate, scratching her chin as Jesse spoke. 

Their talk changed to their plans, how long it would take them to get to their destination and what would follow. Jesse tossed himself down on the meager blanket that went underneath the saddles as the light of their fire died down, rummaging in one of the large sacks he’d tied to the horse. He sat up a moment and motioned Reyes over. 

“Almost forgot,” the cowboy’s voice rumbled with light amusement. Reaper cocked an eyebrow under his mask. That familiar, coyote grin was spreading across McCree’s unkempt face. 

“What?” Reyes took the bait, his voice dripping with disdain.

McCree produced a black, obnoxious cowboy hat from the bag in his hands. 

“You’re gonna have to look the part, partner. Let’s get you dolled up.” 

Jesse’s horse whinnied in fear as the cowboy rolled over in pain from the kick to his side. Ingrate, meanwhile, seemingly snorted in approval and shoved herself harshly against the other mare, to quiet her down. 

“In your dreams, ingrate. Get some sleep, or your namesake horse will step on you next.”


End file.
